Tomato the Boss and Chibi Spain
by Ellawritesficssometimes
Summary: After a drunken bet, Spain is miraculously transformed into a child. It is now Romano's turn to be the parent. Rated T for childhood traumatization and other destructive shenanigans.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hmmm. Will I stop making new stories and update my other ones? *looks down at her document's folder* *looks away* (eventually lol)**

 **Anyways, enjoy and thanks so much for reading~!**

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 **Chapter 1:**

I was at Spain's house, doing what I did best: complaining and bitching about the woes of my shitty life and long repressed brother complex. At least that jackass was a good listener. And a good lover. And well, just about everything else. Keh, look at me. I was aspiring to become a moron like him. I didn't think it was possible, but I had just hit an all-time low. It didn't help that it was pouring rain outside, matching my chronically sour mood all too perfectly.

Right now, I was sitting in the living room, draped over his couch with wide arms and acting as if I owned the joint. Which I very well did considering the fact that I slept here far more often than I did at my own house. But that was only because Ludwig the wonder potato was always banging Feliciano at all hours of the night. That kraut was one kinky motherfucker, and I wanted absolutely no part of it.

I grumbled under my breath and tried to think of another subject to moan to Spain about. It didn't matter that he was far away. Shouting at the top of my lungs was something that I normally did. Distance didn't stop me from pouring out my feelings over a glass, correction, several glasses of wine. Those glasses would soon become a bottle if I didn't watch myself.

"Mi querido, the food's ready!" Spain trilled, calling me into the kitchen. I grumbled and followed my nose to the heavenly scent of pizza. My words, however, didn't quite match how I was pretty much frothing at the mouth from hunger.

"There better be a whole lot of fucking tomatoes!" I growled.

"Of course there are, silly! I only make the best for my Lovi!"

Leave it to Spain to patronize me into disgruntled submission. I hated how hard it was for me to stay mad at him.

"Wipe that stupid grin off your face," I mumbled. "It's fucking unnerving."

As usual, my disparaging comment went ignored.

With a defeated sigh, I hopped up onto the kitchen island and sat myself down on a barstool. Spain twirled around in his red cooking apron, humming to himself and shedding me with a wide smile as he placed a ceramic plate before me.

Other than his cooking attire, the Spaniard was wearing nothing but a pair of ripped, faded denim jeans. Hey, you don't see me complaining. The pizza wasn't the only yummy thing in the room, you know. That bastard had abs and I shamelessly ogled at them through the methods of burning glares and discreet looks over the shoulder. There was also his butt to look at. That was also a bonus. Chigi! I must have had too much to drink already. I normally wasn't this perverted, I s-swear!

Strong arms wrapped around my neck to hug me from behind. I leaned into Spain's touch and turned my head so that he could peck me on the cheek. "Go on," he beamed, gesturing towards my plate of pizza. "Eat up!"

"I'm not a little boy anymore," I snapped. "Stop patronizing me."

Spain pouted, unwrapping his arms from my neck and taking up a seat next to me. "I just wanted to make you happy," he moped, batting his lashes in perfect puppy dog formation. I forced myself to look away. I would _not_ give in to his whining.

"Can you at least smile for me? You've been so worked up lately. It's made me very worried."

I huffed and stuffed my mouth with just about half the slice of pizza. "What's that? Can't hear you," I hummed in between chewing. "Too busy eating."

I swallowed and made a grab for the pizza slice again, but Spain intercepted me by grabbing my chin and tilting my head in his direction. I stared right into wide, green, and ever pleading eyes. "Is there something bothering you?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes. "Just because I don't smile doesn't mean that I'm upset, you stupid bastard."

The blush on my face took away from the irritation in my voice. It wasn't long before Spain was hugging the life out of me, completely disregarding the fact that I had bones and penetrable internal organs. I spluttered for air and repeatedly punched him in the back with my fists, but alas, the bastard was too busy squealing to pay any heed to my increasingly purple face.

"You're so cute when you blush~! I just want to hold onto you and never let go."

It wasn't long before the Spaniard was forced to let go. I elbowed Spain in the gut, causing him to fall forward and cough up a disgusting amount of spittle. "I'm not cute."

"Oh?" Spain wheezed, clutching his ribcage. "And why is that?"

I looked away and picked up my slice of pizza again. "Because I'm not, okay? Fuck, do I have to spell everything out to you?"

Spain cocked his head to the side. Not long after, realization dawned on his face. A good lover, no matter how moronic they were the rest of the time, was always in tune with their significant other's feelings. My slumped shoulders and overall miserable expression indicated to him that I was having a bad day in the self-esteem department.

Spain placed a hand on my forearm, causing me to scowl and set my pizza slice down, _again_. "Lovino," he chided. "We've talked about this. You shouldn't be so insecure about yourself. I've watched you grow up. I know you better than you know yourself, and listen to me when I tell you that you're valued a lot more than you think you are. You're loved and always will be loved, but none of that will matter unless you learn to love yourself."

My face burned. "Che! Trying to soften me up before sex, eh?" I accused, already knowing that this conversation was going nowhere.

Spain simply shook his head and reached out a hand to fondly ruffle my hair. "You're beautiful."

"Shut up."

"And smart."

"Unlike you."

"And strong."

" _Strongly_ debatable."

"And sexy."

"More like fly as fuck."

"And perfect."

"That's you."

I eyed my glass of wine, grabbed it, and took a sufficiently large glug out of it before Spain could give his retort. The rest of our meal was spent in silence. Spain spared me worried glances every now and then, but I warranted this behaviour solely because I had claimed the entire wine bottle for myself. Before I knew it, my filter slipped and I was lying my tornado of emotions right out onto the kitchen table.

"You know," I slurred, sloshing around the wine in my glass. "I wouldn't be so insecure about myself if it weren't for you."

Spain, who was just on the edge of being tipsy, as indicated by his pinkened cheeks, widened his eyes with surprise. "What do you mean by that?"

"You raised me to think that I came second to my fratello."

Spain clumsily spilled over his glass of wine. "Que?! That's not true at all!"

I raised a hand to silence him. "Is fucking too! Heck, you didn't even want me at first! Or how about the fact that you were almost never home? You were too busy fucking around on the seas or conquering the Americas to pay any attention to me, the little boy who wet his bed every night, terrifying himself out of the worry that you would come home broken and hurt."

Spain looked horrified by this revelation. "Oh, my poor Lovi. I had no idea you felt that way."

I turned away from Spain and bit my lip. "Yeah, well, I never expected someone as oblivious as you to put two and two together."

Spain placed a consoling hand on my back. "Lo siento. I wasn't the most considerate person back then. I'll apologize as many times as it takes to earn your forgiveness."

I finished the rest of my wine glass, raising a sleeve to wipe at my mouth when I was finished. "Save it. You know that I've already forgiven you. You being a terrible parent back then has nothing to do with how you are with me right now."

Spain playfully bumped shoulders with me, causing me to smirk. "Ay! Give me a break! I wasn't _that_ bad."

I used two fingers to push Spain's wine-stained lips together in a feigned pout. It was becoming increasingly difficult for me to refrain myself from kissing them. "Oh, but you were," I mused, challenging his determined green eyes with smug hazel ones. "Anyone could have done a better job than you."

Spain pressed his forehead against mine. You could cut through the sexual tension in the air with one swipe of Japan's katana blade. "Like who?" he whispered, blowing hot, sweet-smelling breath into my face.

I placed a hand at the back of his head and grabbed a fistful of thick, chocolate brown curls. "Like me."

"You don't know a thing about parenting," Spain chuckled. "Why, you wouldn't even last a day, let alone several decades."

I raised a questioning brow. "Want to bet?"

"Si, I do."

 **BOOM!**

Spain and I broke apart as the rumble of thunder, followed by a bright flash of lightning raged on outside. The foundations of the house trembled briefly, causing the lights to flicker before finally stabilizing.

Spain and I both giggled from the awkwardness of the moment. I then hopped down from the barstool and left the bastard to clean up the mess from dinner. "Whatever," I grumbled. "It's not like we can test that bet anyways."

"Too scared to lose, huh?" Spain winked.

"I don't exactly see a spare kid lying around here, do you?"

Spain sighed. "No, I suppose you're right."

I huffed. "Damn straight. Night fucker."

"Nighty night, mi tomatito! Leave some room on the bed for me this time, si?"

I glared at the Spaniard through puffy eyes one last time before I relented and left him to finish up with his cleaning. After somehow managing to stumble my way upstairs, I settled in the guest bedroom and fell asleep the moment that my head hit the pillow.

Just to spite Spain for being a patronizing butthole, I had locked the door from the inside. Normally, I would just sleep in his bedroom, but the idea of having sex with the thought of daddy issues still fresh on my mind was a major turn off.

I blissfully slept/snored in peace, deaf to the Spaniard's pleading wails from outside the bedroom door. The wailing stopped at exactly midnight, but alas, I was far too deep in dream land to notice this.

…

 _Wake up, little tomato,_ a Texan-accented voice spoke in my unconscious mind.

 _The time has finally come for you to put your parenting skills to the test…_

…

I woke up to the sound of scuttling in the bedroom. I groaned and opened my eyes to face another pair of wide, green eyes. A kid who looked to be about 2-3 years old was sitting on the bed next to me. He had a mop of messy, shoulder-length brown curls, and was wearing an oversized white nightgown that swallowed up his tiny frame entirely. The sleeves fell long past his arms, and the bottom of the trimming ended at his stubby little feet. He was actually quite adorable, but waking up to the sight of a random kid was enough to scare anyone.

I started with a jolt and sat up. "Chigi!" I exclaimed. "Where did you come from?!"

The tanned boy simply shed me with a toothy grin, shrugging all the while. "I don't know~!"

I furrowed my brows. "How can you not…? Oh," I hummed in thought. This had to be a prank, right? After our drunken bet last night, Spain must have thought it would be funny to mess with me by borrowing a kid who looked _exactly_ like him. Well, the jig was up because I wasn't having any of his shit this fucking early in the morning.

"Oi! Sp-!" I faltered to correct myself. This was a human boy who I was dealing with. He didn't know that we were personifications of countries, and the last thing that I needed on my conscience was the thought of him being sent to a mental hospital for seeing things that 'didn't exist'. Believe me, it's happened before.

"Antonio?!" I called out harshly. "This isn't funny anymore! Now get in here before I-!" I had to stop myself again. I had to keep reminding myself that I couldn't swear in front of little bambinos like him.

The boy cocked his head to the side, raising a hesitant hand to tug on the sleeve of my red nightshirt. "Who's Antonio?" he asked.

"Someone's who's about to be in a lot of trouble when I find him," I answered, throwing off the covers from my lap and stepping off the bed. It sure was a good thing that I had randomly decided to wear pants last night.

The boy, who was sitting cross-legged on the mattress, sent me a worried look. "Am I in trouble too?"

I tried my best to smile kindly at the boy, but failed miserably in doing so. I looked even more like a pervert than that tomato bastard normally did. "No, of course not. Now let's get you home before someone thinks that you've been kidnapped." I gestured for the boy to follow after me. He simply looked down at the floor and then back up at me.

"Can you pick me up?"

"Come again?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably and fidgeted with his hands, shyly avoiding direct eye contact. "The bed's too high. I'm scared."

"How the fuc-!" I cleared my throat. "Um, how did you get up onto the bed in the first place?"

The boy bit his lip in confusion. "I don't know. I just woke up here."

I sighed. This was looking more and more like a kidnapping by the sound of it. Spain, you bastard. What were you thinking?! If the authorities got involved, I was _so_ not going to bail his sorry ass out. He always seems to forget that his people are not literally _his_ people.

"Alright, c'mere then," I grumbled. The boy lifted his arms, and I picked him up by the armpits, holding him out from my chest as if he were a strange specimen to inspect. His legs dangled high from the ground, causing him to giggle a little. I blushed from the awkwardness of the moment and brought him closer to my chest, wrapping an arm around his waist in support. He was surprisingly light and warm. His hair tickled my nose as he wrapped his own arms around my neck.

"Will I be as big and strong as you when I'm older?"

 **"** So long as you eat your vegetables," I murmured, resorting to the go-to basic answer that all parents give their children. I carried the boy out of the bedroom and into the upstairs hallway. Our conversation fell short after that. I had never been good with children, and the fact that it was so early in the morning didn't exactly help with my already poor socialization skills. The boy simply sucked on his thumb, looking up at me with a speculative glance every now and then. My discomfort grew when he rested his head against the crook of my neck, but I didn't have the heart to say anything about it. I was oddly growing fond of the little guy. He was cute and very mild tempered. Only a monster would have set him down on his own two feet.

I looked for Spain everywhere. So far my search had come up empty. I searched for him in his bedroom, the kitchen, the backyard, the bathroom, and the linen closet (you never know with that bastard), but the carefree Spaniard was nowhere to be found. I then decided to try my luck by searching for him in the laundry room.

"Are you searching for your friend?" The boy's voice shook a little as I climbed down a flight of stairs.

"Mhmm," I hummed, gritting my teeth to prevent anger from leaking into my voice. "Say, what's your name kid?"

The boy pulled away from my neck to look me straight in the eye. I tried my best to look behind and not at him. His eyes were large enough to remind me of those creepy dolls that are typically found in America's (awful) horror movies. "Um, I'm not really sure," he whispered.

"Nice try, bambino," I smirked. "Now enough of this funny business. Everyone's got a name. What's yours?"

"Eh…?" the boy pondered. "I think it's starts with a S…Sp...Sp-ain…"

The boy's eyes lit up with pride. "Spain! My name is Spain!"

"Ha!" I barked with laughter. "Did Antonio tell you to say that?"

The boy faltered, the smile on his face wavering. "No! My name _really_ is Spain!"

"Yeah," I chuckled. "Sure it is. And my name is Italy." Oh, irony, you glorious butt fucker of fate.

"It is!" he protested.

"Looks like we've got a comedian over here," I smirked.

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Uh-huh, yeah. Sure."

"Why do you have to be so _mean?_!"

I stopped walking when I heard the boy's voice crack. "Oi," I tried to pull the boy away from my neck, but he was a lot stronger than he looked. He was currently burying his face into my shoulder, using his fists to tightly cling onto my shirt.

"Are you…crying?"

The boy blubbered into my shoulder. "N-No!" he sniffled in a nasally voice.

 _Shit._

After much struggle, I pried him away from my shoulder. "Okay, 'Spain'," I teased, knowing full well that the boy was far too young to appreciate my sarcasm, let alone understand it. "I believe you." I raised a sleeve to wipe the tears from his chubby cheeks only to falter when a gravelly, Southern accented voice spoke in my head.

Time froze for whatever reason.

Literally, what the fuck was my life anymore?

" _Dearest Tomato, I heed you to listen to me. I have come to deliver a divine prophecy from God for ya. Due to you running your mouth last night, it has been decided that you will be given a chance to stop being a little bitch and put your cockiness where your dick is. In other words, your lover will remain as a child for a period of 24 hours. It is up to you to nurture and care for him as any other parent would_."

 _"Chigi!_ " I thought in my head. " _That kid's actually Spain?!"_

 _"Yep."_

" _What the hell?! How the fuck do you expect_ me _to take care of him?!"_

" _Weren't you the one who said that you would make for a better parent?"_

I sighed internally. Texan God had a point. " _Si…but-!"_

" _No buts! Now you best get a move on, partner. That adorable little love muffin in your arms ain't going to comfort himself."_

Texan God left my mind and faded back to wherever the fuck he came from. I was over questioning things at this point.

Time resumed once more.

Little Spain sobbed and pounded weak fists against my chest in retaliation. "Don't say you believe me, if you don't mean it, you big meanie!"

It took me a moment to respond. After all, I was still cock-shocked over the fact that my lover was now a _child_. We were only joking when we had made that bet last night, damnit! When I was drunk, I hardly ever meant what I said! Looks like my cocky words had come right back to bite me in the ass. Che, could this day get any worse?!

"Hey," I chided. "Don't be like that." Not knowing what to do, I rubbed a consoling hand up and down Spain's back, hoping that this action would be enough to placate him into calming down. Luckily it did because Spain's sobs eventually turned into hiccups. His eyes and cheeks were still red, but at least he had finally stopped crying.

I grabbed a rag that was hanging on a nearby drying rack. "Shhh," I cooed, gently dabbing at his cheeks again.

"I was only messing with you," I lied. "I didn't think that you would get so upset."

Spain's eyes twinkled. "So you really do-" * _hiccup_ * "-believe me?"

"Yes, really," I smiled, only to grimace when a stream of green snot trickled out of Spain's nose.

Spain grinned, merrily oblivious to the fact that the mucus was now heading straight for his mouth. "Really, really?"

"Really, really, really," I chuckled, wincing as I dabbed at the snot on his upper lip. That shit was sticky. And why the fuck was it so warm?!

Just when I thought that things couldn't get any more gross, Spain hiccuped. That wasn't the gross part, however. After patting his back again, he burped right in my face.

"Excuse you," I grumbled, frowning at him.

My words fell on deaf ears as Spain was too busy laughing at the disgusted expression on my face. After several forced burps and reluctant pats to the back, Spain faltered, looking-pale faced all of a sudden.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

Spain bit his lip. "I don't…feel so good."

My eyes widened with realization, but it was already far too late for me to act. Spain's cheeks puffed up, and before I knew it, yellow, foul-smelling vomit was thrown all across my night shirt, my socks, the floors, the walls, and even the fucking ceiling. It was like someone had placed a finger over a running hose, that being Spain's rancid mouth, and let the vomit spray in all directions.

Spain gave me a horrified look while I held him out from my chest in a Simba-like manner.

"The…FUCK?!" I screamed, while Spain simultaneously broke out into tears. AGAIN.

"I'm…I'm…s-s-sorry! Please don't…hate…m-me…" Spain blubbered in between choking for air and also on his own snot and vomit.

I set down Spain in the laundry room's sink basin and raised the hand that wasn't covered in precarious liquids to my forehead. Just fucking great. On top of nursing a raging hangover, I now had to clean up a shit-ton of vomit, soothe a sniffling and snotting bambino, and nurture him in a way that didn't traumatize him for life, well, at least for the day anyways.

Mission fucking impossible, am I right?

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 **To be continued...**

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Texan God is a reference to the anime's dub. Look up **"Hungary's Message From God** " on You Tube if you don't know what I'm trolling about xD

…

 **Next Chapter.**.. **Stage 1: Breakfast Time and Hangry Hissy Fits**

"SPAIN! PUT THAT TABLE DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

CRASH!

"MAKE ME, YOU STUPID MAN PUTA!"


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N** : Whaddup homies? It's my birthday today! I'm officially nineteen now. Ugh. What a shitty day it's been. I had to wake up early and bus downtown to hand in a paper to my Crim Prof. So not awesome... Anyways, thanks for reading!

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I winced in the memory of the catastrophe that had only happened just a few moments ago. I had almost puked several times myself whilst cleaning up the mess that little Spain had so conveniently created for me. It appeared as if Texan God got a real kick out of making my day miserable thus far.

As of now, Spain was all cleaned up. Since the blouse that he had been wearing was ruined beyond repair, I had lent him one of my night shirts. There was no need for him to wear pants as the shirt fell well past his knees, just like his old one. Getting him to brush his teeth had been a pain. He only did so after I had promised to make him something for breakfast.

After changing into a fresh set of clothes, I set off into the kitchen with a scuttling Spain quick on my heels. I had thought it best to make him something light to eat. The last thing that I needed right now was to have him puking all over the place again. I think that we had both been sufficiently traumatized by that event. It was obvious that Spain felt bad about it as he kept sparing me guilty looks whenever my head was turned in the opposite direction.

He was currently sitting at the kitchen table, slumped over with his head resting in his arms. His stubby, tanned legs dangled high up from the ground. Thankfully I had found an old booster seat to strap him into.

Spain's green eyes brightened in awe as he watched me crack several eggs into a heated skillet. My facial expression didn't show it, but I was becoming increasingly agitated as time went on. So basically, nothing new. For one thing, I had been forced to cook, which didn't sit well with me at all. I'm typically a lazy, expectant bum when it comes to the woeful predicament of household chores. Spain had always been the gracious homemaker, not me.

Another thing that pissed me off was how Spain constantly stared at me. Sure, I may be an adult, but that didn't mean that I was a good role model. Spain was like a shadow that followed my every move. I yawned, he yawned. I stretched, he stretched. I scratched my head, he scratched his head, and so on and so forth.

Despite this, I was still uncomfortable with the idea of being looked up to. Not to mention the fact that I had to be conscious of everything that I said in front of little Spain. I had already sworn once in front of him, and I certainly didn't want to make that mistake again. I was supposed to be a good parent, and if I failed to live up to that expectation, Spain's transformation could very well be extended. At this point of craziness, I couldn't rule any possibility out.

Either way, it was hard to keep little Spain upset for long. Just like his older dumbass self, he was inherently happy. I could hear him giggling and humming silly made up songs to himself while I chopped up some vegetables to put into his omelette.

"Roma~! Roma~! Roma is cute!" Spain sang. "He's really kind and feeds me, tehe~! I am so very lucky to eat for free!"

I rolled my eyes. I was beginning to regret telling him my real name. "Oi! Funny guy?" I smirked. "Do you want tomatoes in your omelette?"

"Si! Si!" Spain banged an excited fist against the kitchen table. "I really, really, _really_ like tomatoes!"

"Really?" I grinned. "I couldn't tell."

The smile on Spain's face faded. "I _really do_ like tomatoes!" he protested.

I grimaced in realization. I had to keep reminding myself that child Spain was even more gullible and oblivious to sarcasm than his adult self. I tsked under my breath and moved on to slicing up an onion. It was best to just let the subject drop. Too bad Spain was insistent on convincing me of his would-be tomato fetish. Please, for the love of all Texans, _don't_ ask. I'd rather not explain.

"I love tomatoes more than anything else in the world!" he huffed, his lips pursed into an adorable pout. If I wasn't such an anti-social fuck, I would have walked over there and pinched his cheeks. I was now beginning to understand why Elizabeta had been so attached to Feliciano during his toddler years. Kids were just so determined and naïve that it was amusing to watch them get flustered over the most trivial of things.

"Mhhmmm," I responded.

Spain shed me with a dark glare, but I was too busy flipping the omelette to notice this. He then furrowed his brows, deeply contemplating his next course of action. A devilish grin crept onto his face as he latched his gaze onto the spare bundle of tomatoes that were lying on top of the wooden chopping board.

"Can I have a tomato right now?" he asked, batting his long lashes at me in a suspiciously innocent manner. "Por favor?"

I raised a brow at him. "Just on its own?" I asked.

Spain flashed me with a mouthful of pink gums and half-grown in teeth. "Si!" he trilled.

I shrugged, thoroughly robbed of any will power over the matter. I couldn't resist those damn puppy dog eyes of his. "Alright, but no more snacking until breakfast. I don't want you to spoil your appetite," I grumbled.

"Okay~!"

I cut up the tomato into small, thin slices, placed it onto a plate, and handed it over to Spain. Small, greedy hands grabbed onto the plate. Slurping sounds filled the kitchen, and it wasn't long before Spain had consumed the red fruit entirely.

Spain expectantly held up his empty plate to the air. Tomato juice trickled out of the corners of his mouth while he spoke. "More please~!"

I took the plate from him and placed it into the kitchen sink. "That was your one and only snack. If you're still hungry after breakfast, only then can you have another tomato," I scolded in a firm voice.

Spain's eyes watered a little. "B-but-!" he whimpered.

"No buts! We had a deal, remember?" I snapped, feeling sorry when Spain lowered his gaze and sadly looked at the ground.

Not knowing what to do, I went back to chopping up the ingredients for my own omelette. Those ingredients mostly consisted of tomatoes, which Spain most definitely had his beady little eyes on.

 **SCREECH!**

I looked to my right and saw that Spain was attempting to scoot his booster seat closer towards the kitchen counter. I chuckled, humored by the little sneak's vigilance. "You can try to move all you want, kid. You aren't going anywhere with that strap tied around your waist."

Spain's eyes gleamed with realization. I faltered, woefully recognizing the fatal mistake that I had just made.

 **SNAP!**

Spain, with an extraordinary amount of strength for a bambino of his size, grabbed onto the booster seat's safety belt, effortlessly snapping it in two. He then held up the distorted plastic strap for me to see, treating it as if it were a medal of some sort. It had completely crossed my mind that this little boy was still a nation at heart.

The smug expression on his face worried me. "You mean this strap?" he hummed.

I grit my teeth together. "Spain," I spoke slowly and carefully. "Don't you dare get out of that seat."

 **THUD!**

Spain hopped out of his booster seat anyways, landing heavily on his feet. The toddler then jutted up his chin, his spine straight as he stalked towards me with the calculated prowess of a foot solider. "I want another tomato," he growled.

"Well you're not getting one!" I crossed my arms.

"GIVE ME IT!" Spain shrieked like a banshee.

"NO MEANS NO!" I screamed back at him against my better judgment. Screw patience, this twerp was beginning to get on my nerves.

Something in Spain must have snapped, as he was now kicking and punching at everything that got in his way. All I could do was watch and yell helplessly as Spain wrecked and destroyed his just recently furnished kitchen. The pantry door hung on a single hinge, several plates had fallen from the cabinets and were now shattered to pieces, courtesy of Spain repeatedly banging his head against the wall, and as the garbage can tumbled over, its smelly contents stained the once spotless marble kitchen floor.

Let me just remind you that this entire tantrum was thrown over a tomato. Spain had always had a horrible temper, but usually it would take a lot more than a fucking fruit to set him off like this.

The final straw for me was when Spain walked over to the kitchen table and bent his knees, no doubt intending to pick it up. "Spain!" I fumed "That's enough!"

Spain glared daggers at me, and with a terrifying amount of ease, he lifted the kitchen table up from the ground and over his shoulders.

 **CLANG!**

Every decorative plate that had been set on the kitchen table fell and clattered against the ground.

My eyes widened and I took several steps back. Memories of me throwing various objects at Spain during my childhood flashed through my mind.

Come to think of it, a good day for Spain back then was if I had only thrown a table at him. And now that our positions had been reversed, I couldn't help but sympathize with the moron. Kids were fucking scary. Forget their cuteness! It was simply a trap so that they could enslave you into becoming their bitch. Do or say one thing they don't like, and they'll be sure to make your life a living hell.

Figurative steam poured out of Spain's nostrils. The bull of his anger was mostly directed at me, unfortunately.

"SPAIN! PUT THAT TABLE DOWN RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

Spain moved a little, causing me to flinch, albeit involuntarily. It's not like there was the imminent possibility of me getting decapitated by a hangry, out of control toddler nation. Oh no, of course not.

"MAKE ME YOU STUPID MAN PUTA!" Spain retorted back.

"You watch your fucking mouth!"

"Says you!"

I glared at Spain, and he glared back with an equal amount of furiousness. I then decided to rely on the oldest, most cliché trick in the book. My voice was deadly calm when I spoke. "I'm going to count to five. If you haven't put down that table by the time I'm finished counting, you can consider yourself grounded."

"Y-You can't do that!" Spain's lip trembled as he spoke. He was no longer angry, but rather, scared.

I loomed over him and felt the immense need to let out an evil cackle. But, since I had no interest in being served a face full of table, I refrained myself from doing so. "Watch me," I smirked.

"Agh!" the toddler let out an exasperated sigh.

Spain let the table fall to the floor. His eyes nervously darted all over the kitchen, desperately looking for the nearest and most convenient escape route. The brat knew that he was in deep trouble.

"Oh, no you don't!" I cried out when Spain scuttled forward, sheepishly attempting to skirt around me. I felt a sharp pain jolt up my leg. The little bastard had decided to go for the cheap shot by kicking me in the shin.

"Mother fucker!" I swore, bending over to clutch at my now bruised shin.

Spain had long escaped the room at this point, but just to spite me and rub in his victory, he poked his head around the archway of the kitchen's entrance. "Catch me if you can!" he giggled.

Jesus fucking Christ! This kid was a roller coaster of emotions. Just a minute ago, he had been intent on murdering me, and now he wanted to play tag?!

I still nonetheless accepted his challenge. Screw the mess in the kitchen. I would take care of that once I had put that ungrateful little shit in his place. I had cooked for him damnit! Where the fuck was my thanks?

"Chigi! It is _so_ on!"

* * *

 **To be continued...**


	3. Chapter 3

"Chigi! It is so on!" I surged forward, only to trip over a half-broken plate. I cried out and gracelessly smacked my forehead against the wall.

I blacked out for a moment. I could have sworn that I saw an image of Texan God sitting in the middle of a movie theatre with a bag of popcorn in his lap. Uh…whatever I saw, it had disappeared far too quickly for me to fully process it.

"Shit, that hurt!" I groaned too myself, wincing when I felt the wounds on the bottom of my foot seal up again.

I stumbled out of the kitchen, following the sound of scampering feet and high-pitched giggles. It appeared that Spain had decided to go upstairs.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are, you little bastard!" I growled under my breath.

I stomped over to the foot of the staircase and looked up. Spain shed me with a toothy grin. He held a laundry hamper over his head, and by the looks of his body positioning, he intended to throw it at me. Fuck this shit, I'm out! First a table, and now a laundry hamper?! This kid was sick! What was it, whack an Italian day?!

I raised my fists into a defensive stance. Dealing with the mafia on a regular basis had trained me well. Okay, so maybe I mostly just run away and duck out of moving cars, but at least I knew how to pretend to be a badass.

"Oi! What do you think you're doing?" I questioned.

Spain's smile only got wider. "I'm having fun!"

"Didn't you have enough 'fun' back in the kitchen?!"

"No! You were being really mean and grumpy!" Spain pouted, still not making any move to set down the laundry hamper.

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose with two fingers. "Maybe if you behave yourself properly, I just might be nice enough to take you out to the park later."

"Really?!"

"No, you destroyed the entire kitchen. Why the hell would I do that?!" I snapped, once again without thinking about the repercussions of my instinctual sarcasm.

Spain's face contorted with rage. The last thing that I saw before crashing into the wall behind me was the butt of the laundry hamper. My spine cracked and tomatoes danced before my vision. I shook my head, disorientated and still a bit dizzy.

I scowled and swatted a pair of Spain's dirty underwear off my head.

Spain cackled and pointed an over-sized shirt sleeve at me. "Fusososo! You look really silly right now!"

I winced and popped my shoulder back into place, hesitantly standing up. The wall now had a decent-sized hole in it, courtesy of my elbow. I don't even want to think about how I'm going to explain all of this to Spain once he becomes an adult again. That is, _if_ he becomes an adult again.

"You think you're funny, huh?" I spat.

Spain's sly smirk answered my question.

"We'll see how funny you are when I come up there and give you a piece of my damned mind!" I fumed.

I began to trudge my way up the stairs.

Spain had clearly been anticipating this reaction from me. The little bastard bent over to pick up a red towel from the pile of extra laundry that had fallen at his feet. He then waved the red towel about in a manner similar to that of a Matador. Wait a fucking minute…

"Ole! Toro! Toro!" Spain cheered.

I stopped mid-stride, giving myself enough time to allow most of my initial anger to disappear. I have to admit, I've always loved how bright his green eyes got whenever he smiled. Ah crap, how could I possibly ruin this little boy's fun?

I _suppose_ that I could overlook the incident in the kitchen. Besides, Texan God was evaluating me on my parenting skills. If Spain was having fun, it could only serve to my own benefit. Si, it looks like I'll just have to go along with whatever hair-brained scheme that that brat had come up with.

I tensed and hunched my shoulders. "Che! So I'm a bull now?"

"Si! Si!" Spain giddily hopped up and down on his feet.

I shrugged. "You asked for it little man."

I scraped my foot against the ground, huffing, puffing and inhaling sharply through my nostrils. I could only pray that Spain would remember none of this. Otherwise, I might very well die from embarrassment. Either way, turns out that I was surprisingly good with kids. Who would have thought? Looks like I wasn't so useless after all.

I barrelled up the stairs, bowing my head just like a bull would.

Spain bit his lower lip in determination. "O-ole!"

"You're mine now!" I cackled, hopping up onto the last stair to _tower_ over Spain. The toddler was cornered with nowhere to go.

Spain clenched the towel to his chest, looking afraid and much shyer than before. "A-am I in trouble?" he just about whimpered.

Oh God. Romano noooooooo. Don't look. Don't you dare fucking look at his face. Shit. You just looked at him, didn't you?

I faltered at the sight of Spain's saucer-like eyes. "Well," I sternly crossed my arms. "Are you at least sorry for what you did?"

Spain weakly nodded his head.

An evil grin crept onto my face. "Then I know exactly what to punish you with."

Spain shrunk even lower, averting his gaze to the ground.

This distraction gave me the perfect opportunity to strike. "Ack!" Spain cried out in surprise when I scooped him up into my arms, effortlessly slinging his wriggling body over my shoulder.

"You are now my tickle captive!" I boomed in my best impression of an 'evil' voice.

Now, I know what you're all thinking. What?! Romano acting goofy? Well, first of all, screw you for being such a judgemental fuck. Secondly, I've always been able to be myself with Spain. Even if he was a child right now, I still felt at home with him. Tch! Enough with this sappiness! I had a hysterically giggling toddler to tickle the living breath out of.

Spain bounced up and down on my back as I thundered down the upstairs hallway. "Faster! Faster!" he demanded, pounding a playful fist against my shoulder blade.

I sped up, skidding to a stop when I reached Spain's bedroom door.

 **BOOM!**

I lifted a foot and ninja-kicked the door open.

I then threw Spain onto the bed and pounced on his wriggling figure. "Ahaha! S-stop!" the toddler nation wheezed as I lifted his shirt and tickled his rib cage. Just for fun, I poked the baby fat on his tummy. That shit was bouncy. No wonder that bastard poked my cheeks so often during my chibi years. It was kind of fun to be perfectly honest.

"Do you surrender?" I asked, using my other hand to ruffle his hair fondly.

"Si! Si! Aha! I s-surrender!"

I brought my face closer to Spain's and smirked. My hands were then used to trap him in place on both sides of his waist. "I'll stop tickling you on one condition."

"What?"

The grin on my face only got wider. "You will now refer to me as Boss Romano."

"But Romaaaaaa!" Spain whined. He was always such a sore loser. Don't even get me started on how needy he had gotten after losing the World Cup back in 2014. What a nightmare that year was.

"Oi! Quit it with the moping. You lost to me fair and square."

Spain stubbornly turned his head to the side, sticking up his nose to the air. "Hmmph!"

"Kid, I'll wait all day if I have to."

"I don't want to call you Boss. I like calling you Roma!" he huffed, puffing up his cheeks to rival that of a chipmunk's.

"Too bad."

Spain's eyes widened in realization. "Oh! I know!" he exclaimed. "How about I call you Boss Tomato?"

"Where the heck did you come up with that?" I snapped, blushing slightly out of embarrassment.

"Eheh, see! Your face is always so red! It's so cute!"

I deadpanned. Even in toddler form, Spain still found a way to patronize me. That bastard.

I groaned. "I think I liked Roma better."

I flopped onto my back next to Spain. I jolted a little when Spain lifted my arm, moving over to cuddle up next to me. His head rested against my collar bone, causing me to crinkle my nose when his curls tickled the lower half of my face. His revenge from earlier was deviously subtle.

I wrapped an arm around Spain's tiny frame, pulling him closer to my chest. An afternoon siesta sounded really good right now. I had experienced enough trauma this morning, thank you very much.

Spain yawned, burying his face into my side. "'M Sleepy," he muttered.

I raked a hand through his hair, yawning myself. "Let's take a nap then."

…

I had only slept for an hour or so before waking up. As usual, Spain tossed and turned in his sleep as if his life of consistently pissing off Italians depended on it. I was lying flat on my back, petting Spain's hair while he muttered in his sleep.

"R-Roma," he hummed contentedly. "Cute…Tomato…I love…my… tsundere… tomatito."

I shook my head in disbelief, purposefully tuning out the rest of his nonsensical ramblings. I could only take so much insanity, you know.

I shifted a little to make myself more comfortable.

Just when I was about to close my eyes, however, Texan God decided to make a surprise, but more importantly, _unwelcomed_ visit in my head.

 _"Howdy partner! So how goes the child-wraggling?"_

I mentally sighed. "Why don't you take a look for yourself?"

 _"Oh! How precious! Cuddling! Now that right there has earned you some bonus points!"_

I furrowed my brows in confusion. Why did I smell butter? And what the hell was up with that crunching sound?

It took me a moment to piece two and two together.

"The fuck?! Are you eating popcorn right now?" I spluttered.

 _"Yep."_

* _Slurping sounds_ *

" _Well, I gotta say. You're doing a mighty divine job so far. Keep it up, and your lover will be back to making sweet adult 'diddly' to you in no time!"_

 ** _BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!_**

 _"Gosh darnit! My taquitos are burning!"_

"How tragic," I muttered sarcastically.

" _Ah! Hot! Hot! Hot!"_

"Uh…can I go now?"

" _Huh? Oh yeah, yeah. Just know that I'll be keeping tabs on y'all cuties!"_

"I look forward to it," I deadpanned.

" _Clarence?!"_ Another deep voice echoed in my head. _"Did you set the microwave on fire again?!"_

 _"Jesus Christ, ya scared me…erm…uh…Sir!"_

 _"Clarence, how many times must I tell you NOT to say my name in vain?"_

Texan God (?) cleared his throat _. "Pardon me, sir. My hillbilly brain can be most forgetful at times."_

 _"Clarence?"_

 _"Yeah?"_

 _"The microwave's still on fire."_

 _"SHEEEEEEET!"_

The last thing that I heard was a defeated sigh before the voices of Texan God and Jesus (?!) faded from my mind.

I don't even know what to say.

Shit just kept getting weirder and weirder.

* * *

 **Next Chapter: A surprise visit from N. Italy and the Potato deutschbag. Ja, I went there.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hi again! I just finished writing this story, so updates will hopefully be more consistent from now on. Thanks for being so awesome! Enjoy!

* * *

I hadn't been able to fall back asleep after my mental conversation with Texan God and Jesus (?!). You know, most people would be freaking out right now. I honestly can't be bothered to. I had seen enough shit over the past few centuries, and this talk was only the tip of the iceberg.

I had carried the still napping Spain into the living room, placing him onto the couch while I set off to clean up the mess in the kitchen. The damage wasn't as bad as I had initially thought. Sure, the dining room table was snapped in half, nearly all the plates were broken, and there were massive holes in the wall, but at least the roof was still standing! Right? Right? Oh fuck me in the butthole, this was going to be a long day. It was only mid-afternoon.

 **DING DONG!**

Just when I had finished placing the remains of the dining room table in the backyard, hidden and far away from sight, the doorbell rang. I grumbled and hurried inside, hastily looking over my shoulder to see that Spain was still fast asleep.

I rolled up my sleeves, raked a hasty hand through my dishevelled hair, and took a deep breath before I had finally gained the courage to open the front door. It took me all but two seconds before I slammed the door shut again.

 **DING DONG!**

"Go away! We're busy!" I growled, placing my back against the door for good measure.

"Ve! But fratello!" Feliciano whined. "We came all this way! Come on! Let us in~! Pleaaase?"

I sighed in relief. At least I didn't have to bear the sight of Feliciano's puppy dog eyes.

 **SQUISH!**

I spoke too soon. Feliciano pressed his face against the small glass window in the door, his wide brown eyes pleading for me to have mercy.

"Don't make me sad, Lovi," he pouted, clouding up the glass with his breath.

Feliciano jumped back when I harshly drew the curtains over his face. Ah, much better.

"Luddy! Do something, ve!"

I could hear Germany's ' _I'm so done with this shit'_ sigh all the way from here. "Lovino, your brother misses you. You haven't called or visited in close to two months. Do the right thing and let us in, ja?"

I opened the door by a slight crack, leering up at Germany's icy blue eyes. "Go away, bricktato," I hissed. "I said I'm busy!"

Bricktato was my preferred nickname for the tightwad German nation. He has muscles and loves potatoes. Combine those two together and perfecto! A goddamn brilliant insult, if you ask me.

Feliciano peered over Germany's shoulders to look at me skeptically. "Oh!" he exclaimed. "Fratello only gets that look when he's hiding something!" he whispered in a low voice for reasons inexplicable.

Germany cocked his head to the side. "Is that so?" he pondered.

An evil smile that I knew all too well crept onto Feliciano's face. "F-feli!" I cried out. "Don't you dare!"

 **BAM!**

Too late. Before I knew it, Feliciano had pushed his way through the door, pulling me into a rib-crushing hug. The idiota then had the audacity to bounce up and down on his feet. "Oh, how I missed your grumpiness, ve!" he said while pressing his potato-germified lips against my temple, causing me to wrinkle my nose in disgust.

Germany walked into the front room, closing the door behind him.

"Feli!" I shushed. "Shut the fuck up!"

"Ve, why?" Feliciano lowered his voice again.

I shook my head. "I can't say. I wasn't lying to you. I really am busy right now."

Germany pushed up the pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. "Something doesn't seem right in here," he remarked.

"All the more reason for you guys to leave!" I growled back.

Germany shook his head. He had long been desensitized to my anger for him to be fazed by it.

I gasped again when Feliciano buried his needy face into my collar bone. I absently brought a hand to the back of his head, raking my fingers through his copper curls. "Won't you tell me what you're hiding, Lovi?" he moped, his figurative tail resting in between his legs.

I huffed. I had always been an insufferable pushover whenever it came to pleasing my brother. I loved that little airhead far too much for my own good. "Oh fine!" I relented. "But you have to promise me that you won't make a sound, capiche?!"

Feliciano pulled away from the hug, raising his hand to the air in an informal salute. "Roger that Lovi!" he whispered, his cheeks spreading into a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

I looked over my shoulder. "The same goes for you, mashed deutschbag."

Germany tsked under his breath, but was smart enough not to provoke me further. Just his mere presence alone was enough to set me off.

I led them into the living room, placing a finger over my lips all the while.

I stopped before Spain's sleeping form on the couch, bending over to readjust the blanket so that it covered his shoulders.

Germany took one look at Feliciano and was quick to clamp a hand over his mouth. Feliciano squealed at the cuteness of the child laying before him. Words and an endless amount of questions slipped out of his mouth at the speed of light. Thankfully, most of it was muffled by Germany's sausage hand.

"Oh! Lovi! He's so cute! Where did you find him? Is he an orphan? Where's Spain? Can I hold him?!"

"Oi, bricktato! You guys might want to sit down before I tell you this."

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that we can handle it," Germany stubbornly retorted back.

Feliciano's eyes widened as he silently nodded his head. Germany still hadn't taken the liberty to remove his hand from Feliciano's mouth.

"That's no random child. It's Spain."

"VHAT?!" Germany spluttered in the odd moment where he actually showed emotion. Shocking, I know.

Feliciano freed himself from Germany's grip, running over to crouch before the foot of the couch. He raised a hesitant hand to brush away the curls from Spain's forehead. "Ve! He's right! That is Spain!" he exclaimed.

Germany peered over Feliciano, his eyebrows furrowing in both recognition and confusion. "How?"

Feliciano echoed his potato lover. "Si, Lovi! How did this happen?"

Magic wasn't a new occurrence for us nations. England fucked up all the time. The only thing that was new here was that a nation had never been reverted back to chibi form before.

I blushed slightly in embarrassment. "Um…well, we were drinking, and then we sort of made a bet…"

"About…?" Feliciano rolled his hand about impatiently, urging for me to continue.

"I bet that I would be a better parent than him. And today…well…I just woke up to this," I helplessly gestured at Spain's now stirring form.

Spain's eyes slowly fluttered open. He looked around the room in disorientation, his eyes widening when they rested on the new pair of strangers in the room. "R-Roma?" he whimpered.

"I'm right here," I reassured, crouching down next to Feliciano to cup Spain's cheek.

"You see this guy?" I cocked my head over to Feliciano, who looked like he was trying his best not to squeal. His heavy breathing was already a pretty good indication of that.

"Uh-huh," Spain nodded his head. He sat up, groggily wiping at his eyes with an over-sized sleeve.

"That's my brother, Feliciano, but you can call him Feli. He's very nice, so you can trust him."

"What about that guy?" Spain asked with trembling lips, looking over at Germany's towering figure.

"He's a pain in the butt. Stay clear of him," I chuckled. Feliciano elbowed me slightly, albeit not taking his ogling eyes away from Spain.

"I'm only kidding, you can trust him too," I grudgingly added in after Feliciano gave me a burning side glance. For someone who was inevitably happy all the time, he could be really scary if he wanted to. Just ask the mafia. They don't ever bother to mess with him.

"Oh my gosh!" Feliciano cooed. "Aren't you just the cutest thing ever?!"

Spain's cheeks flushed a bright pink.

Feliciano opened his arms. "Can you give your uncle Feli a hug?"

"Uncle?!" I spluttered.

Spain shyly smiled back at Feliciano. "Okay…" he mumbled.

Feliciano pulled Spain into his arms, fondly ruffling the latter's hair. "Oh, my heart~!" he gushed. "I should take a picture for Elizabeta to see!"

"NO!" I protested. "The spell's only supposed to last for a day. I don't want to overwhelm him with new people!"

More like I was too lazy to explain this all again. There was also the fact that I was just plain out antisocial.

"How do you know that?" Germany asked, crossing his arms. The oaf was still keeping his distance from Spain. He had always been awkward and stiff whenever it came to dealing with kids.

"I just do!" I snapped. They already knew too much as it was. It was probably best if I refrained from telling them about Texan God anyways.

"That's not an answer…"

"Just stop asking me questions, will you?!"

Germany sighed, thankfully deciding to let the topic drop.

I turned my attention back to Feliciano and Spain, only to have my jaw fall open in shock. Spain was sitting on Feliciano's lap, giggling uncontrollably as the latter bounced him up and down.

"Feli!" I scolded. "Stop doing that! He gets dizzy very easily."

Feliciano stopped bouncing Spain, much to the toddler's evident disappointment. "Is that so?" he mused, pressing a kiss to the back of Spain's head. "What would like to do now, bambino?"

"I wanted to go to the park, but Roma told me no!" Spain grinned mischievously, looking to see how I would react to this blatant lie.

"I said no such thing!" I protested, albeit futilely.

"Lovi!" Feliciano gasped. "How could you say no to such a precious face?"

HA! 'Precious' my ass. That kid was a manipulative little brat, all right.

Feliciano stood up from the couch, cradling Spain against his chest. The little nation stuck out his tongue at me while he wrapped his arms around Feliciano's neck. My face reddened in anger.

"Come!" Feliciano hummed. "Let's get you dressed."

Once again, my protests were futile. Feliciano headed upstairs, leaving me and the potato alone in the living room.

"So…" Germany started, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"What happened to the kitchen?"

Watch me self-destruct in _3…2…1…_

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU NOT TO ASK ME ANYMORE QUESTIONS!"

…

Spain and Feliciano skipped their merry fucking way all around the park, while Bricktato and I merely stood to the side and watched with disgruntled expressions on our faces. The only difference between us was that Germany inevitably looked like a first-class pervert. Seriously, did he ever lighten up? And this is coming from the 'King of the tsunderes', as Japan likes to refer to me on his blog. Don't ask. You _really_ don't want to know.

Anyways! Turns out that Feliciano's visit was based off a dream that he had had the other night. Apparently, a divine 'spirit' had urged for him to check up on me. I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that that 'spirit' was actually Texan God. _No_ comment.

I scooted farther towards the other end of the park bench. I didn't want to catch potato influenza anytime soon, thank you very munch.

"Lovi! Are you seeing this?" Feliciano giggled, pointing towards the top of the play structure where little Spain was standing, both hands placed on his hips in a conquering stance.

"Roma~! Roma~! I'm the King of the world~!"

"Keh, what the fuck ever," I grumbled to myself. Nothing mattered anymore. It was obvious that Spain liked Feliciano better anyways.

Feliciano shook his head in disapproval, walking over to stand before me in front of the bench. "Ahem," he cleared his throat.

"What?!" I snapped.

"Aren't you going to play with him?"

"Why would I do that?"

Unbeknownst to me, Spain pushed himself down the slide, scuttling over to the other side of the park to swing back and forth on the monkey bars. "Roma~! Roma~! Look! I'm hanging upside down!" The baggy red t-shirt that he was wearing slipped over his head, revealing a tubby, tanned stomach. Feliciano had found a whole bunch of my old childhood clothes stowed away in the far corners of Spain's closet, as you can probably guess.

"He's been trying to get your attention all afternoon!" Feliciano huffed.

On cue, Spain ran over to the tire swing, taking several hops to finally pull himself onto the rubber tire. "Roma~! Roma~!" he trilled, beaming a toothy smile. "Come and play with me~!"

"Really?" I drawled, already bored with Feliciano's lecturing.

"Yes really!"

Spain stood on top of the tire swing, his legs wobbling unsteadily. "Roma~! Look! Look!"

The toddler's eyes widened in shock when he lost his balance, tumbling to the ground face first.

 **THUD!**

"Romaaaaaaaaa~!" Spain wailed.

I stood up from the bench, finally noticing that Spain had fallen to the ground. "Shit!" I cursed.

"I saw that coming from a mile away," Germany remarked in a snide voice.

"Then why the fuck did you not do anything?!" I growled.

Germany merely shrugged, turning his attention back to the book that he was reading.

Feliciano moved forward to help, but I grabbed onto his wrist, shaking my head. "This is my fault. I'll deal with it."

I ran over to Spain's sprawled out figure, crouching down next to him in the sand. I tried not to look too disgusted when my knees brushed against the sand bed. "Spain?" I murmured, rubbing my hand against his back. The toddler showed no indication of lifting his head from the sand. If I didn't see his chest rise just now, I would have thought him to be dead.

"Spain," I repeated. "Are you hurt, bambino? What's wrong?"

Spain turned his head to the side, tears welling in the corners of his eyes. "Y-you didn't play with me when I asked you t-t-to!" he blubbered, pounding an angry fist against the ground.

"Oh," I simpered. "I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."

Spain sat up on his knees, rubbing at his eyes with dusted hands. "Feli plays with me," he frowned.

I brushed off the rest of the dirt from his denim overalls with a gentle hand. "I'll play with you now, if you like."

Spain crossed his arms, refusing to look me in the eyes. "I don't want to play with you! I want to play with Feli!"

"Then go play with Feli then!" I snapped. "Christ!"

"Fine!"

"GOOD!"

"FINE!"

"BENE!"

"I DON'T KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!"

"GOOD!"

"I'M LEAVING NOW!"

"YOU DO THAT!"

Spain stood up, wobbling over to Feli. "Uncle Feli!" he cried. "Roma's being mean to me again!" he sobbed, latching onto Feliciano's leg as his overly melodramatic lifeline.

"What the hell?!" I spluttered. "He was the one who said that he didn't want to play with me!"

Of course, this comment went ignored.

"Tsk! Let's leave the grump be then," Feliciano suggested, glaring darkly at me all the while. "Are you hungry? How about we have our picnic now? Would you like that?"

"Si! Si!" Spain hopped up and down in excitement.

"Alright then! Let's go! Luddy, be a doll and grab the picnic basket for me, will you?"

"Ja, okay."

And then, the unthinkable happened.

Spain grabbed onto both Feliciano's and Germany's (?!) hands, letting the couple lift and swing him playfully in the air.

I merely sat on the ground and watched, woefully trying to convince myself that I _wasn't_ jealous.

"I thought that I was supposed to be the parent, damn it!" I angrily grumbled to myself.

* * *

 **Next Chapter:** Spain learns how to play soccer + an emergency?!


	5. Chapter 5

Everyone was still giving me the silent treatment as we all sat down to eat the picnic food that Feliciano had prepared for us. Well, sort of. Spain, who had the attention span of a fly, didn't seem to be too mad at me anymore. And I knew that it wouldn't be long before Feliciano came around and began speaking to me again.

For now, I would just have to keep my distance by sitting on the far corners of the picnic blanket. Feliciano had actually opened his eyes to give me murderous glares every now and then. Now that was something truly scary. Actually, never mind. Something scarier than that was the fact that Spain had willingly settled himself onto Germany's lap. On the bright side, the deustchbag nation didn't seem to be too pleased about this either. He looked nervous enough to shit a brick.

"Ve, here comes the airplane!" Feliciano cooed, bringing a chocolate truffle to Spain's already sugar-coated lips.

"Ahhhhh!" Spain giggled, opening his mouth to reveal equally chocolate-smeared teeth and gums.

 **CHOMP!**

Spain nearly took off Feliciano's hand as he greedily chowed down on the chocolate truffle.

Feliciano reached into the picnic basket again, but I was quick to intercept him by placing a hand over his wrist. "Feli, I think that he's had enough sweets for today." After all, I was the one who would have to deal with Spain if he experienced a sugar high later on.

Feliciano sighed, removing his hand from the picnic basket. "Ve, alright," he relented. "Perhaps you're right."

Feliciano and I both looked at Spain, who was currently jumping up and down on a purple-faced Germany's lap. I smirked evilly when Spain landed in a sensitive place, causing the vein in Germany's temple to jut out, and quite unattractively at that. But, being the 'trooper' that he was, he didn't dare to let out any grunt of pain.

It was my turn to reach into the picnic basket. I pulled out a wet wipe, motioning for Spain to come sit on my lap. "Oi! Spain! C'mere, bambino. You have stuff all over your face."

Spain's eyes widened indefinitely. "Roma~!" he squealed, pouncing and trapping me in yet another bear hug. I placed a hand on his head and tried pushing him away, but my efforts were futile as he was still much stronger than me.

Germany sighed, looking relieved that the little nation was no longer crushing his balls. What a damn shame.

"Christ!" I swore. "Just turn your head the other way, will you?" I twisted my torso, trying to prevent him from smearing chocolate onto my shirt.

Spain complied, and I began to dab at his mouth. "I like it when you touch me Roma~!" he happily exclaimed. Thankfully, his mind was still too young and innocent to realize how unbearably awkward that comment had sounded.

On instinct, I snapped back my retort. "Tsk! Of course you do, you pervert."

"What's a pervert?"

Feliciano giggled nervously. "Nothing that you need to know~!" he stalled. "Say, why don't we play a game?"

"Oh! How perfect!" Feliciano clapped his hands together. I followed his gaze to find a spare soccer ball lying on the sidelines of the otherwise empty pitch.

Feliciano stood up, running over to grab the ball before turning back to us and waving. "Come on!" he shouted. "What are you guys waiting for?"

I sighed, grabbing Spain by the loop of his overalls before he could trip over the picnic basket. His green eyes were focused solely on the ball, so much so that you could even say that he was mesmerized. To be fair, as an adult, the bastard had practically lived for the sport.

I grabbed Spain's hand, looking over my shoulder when I saw that Germany wasn't coming. Uh, not that I cared about him or anything. "Aren't you coming, Bricktato?"

"Nein," Germany cleared his throat. "I…ahem…have other balls to attend to…" he trailed off.

I wrinkled my face in disgust. "Ugh! Too much information!"

And with that, little Spain and I set off to join Feliciano on the pitch.

Spain let go of my hand and ran forward to latch onto Feliciano's leg. "Uncle! Uncle! Can you teach me how to play?"

"Of course!" Feliciano beamed, patting Spain on the head. "Let's teach you how to kick the ball first, si?"

"Lovi?"

"Heh?" I growled.

"Play keeper for us, will you?"

I grumbled up a storm, but it wasn't long before I had caved under Feliciano's puppy dog eyes. Oh well. I usually played goal keeper anyways. My thin and lithe body type was perfect for leaping high up into the air. It's not like I wanted to play the damn sport or anything. _Obviously_ not.

Feliciano set the ball onto the goal line, turning around to look at Spain, who was eagerly watching his every move.

"To kick the ball, you want to hit it with the inside tip of your foot. Try not to kick it with your toe, otherwise it's going to hurt," he explained, giving a brief demonstration for Spain.

Spain scuttled next to Feliciano, mimicking his actions. "Si, si! Just like that!" Feliciano praised.

"Alright! I'll give you one last demonstration!" Feliciano cupped both hands over his mouth. "Hey, Lovi! You ready?!"

"Yeah, yeah! Just hurry up!" I called back. I crouched down into a defensive position, preparing myself to anticipate which side of the net that Feliciano was going to aim for.

Feliciano backed up a few paces. "Here it comes!" he said, running forward to kick the ball towards the left side of the net, just like I had predicted. I dove to save the ball in the nick of time, grinning like a mad man as I stood up and hurled the ball back to Feliciano.

"Tsk! Tsk! Fratello!" I patronized. "You're losing your touch."

Feliciano huffed, crossing his arms. He then bent over to give Spain one last pep talk.

"Listen up bambino, you got this! Let's put an end to Lovi's big mouth, si?"

"Who's Lovi?"

"Roma."

"Ahhhhhhh."

"Spain?"

"Que?"

"Focus, ve."

"Okay~!"

The two goofballs pulled away from their huddle. "Remember what I taught you!" Feliciano cooed with pride.

Spain grinned a toothy smile, hobbling over to stand in front of the goal line. His chubby face was set into a stubborn pout as he looked at the ball, the net, and then up at me, his eyes twinkling with determination.

"You're going down, Roma!"

"Ha! Well, we'll see about that!"

Spain backed up a few paces, smirking all the while. "I got this!" he muttered to himself, running forward, only to stumble and kick the ball a mere two inches.

"That's okay!" Feliciano reassured. "Two time's the charm, ve~!"

"Is that all you got, little man?" I teased. "Come now, I thought that you were better than that!"

"I AM!"

"Prove it then!"

"I WILL!"

Spain's facial expression darkened. He ran forward to kick the ball, this time with a lot more coordination. The ball soared through the air like a bullet, completely catching me off guard. All was swell until the ball crashed right into my crotch.

"HNNGH!" I cried out, dropping to the ground like a fly. My vision blacked out from the pain.

Feliciano cried out in reciprocation, thrashing on the ground as well. That was one setback to our strong brotherly connection. It only took one hit to knock us both down.

When my vision cleared, I looked up to meet Spain's beaming face.

 **THUD!**

Spain placed a foot over my chest, grinning in triumph. "I have now conquered you!"

I groaned. And here I thought that the conquistador side of him had long died out.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

 _Meanwhile…_

Brows furrowing in worry, Germany crouched down to place a hand over his lover's forehead.

"L-Luddy…" Feliciano wheezed. "I see the snitzel. It's telling me to go to it."

"NEIN, FELI! STAY WITH ME!"

"Okay…I've never liked German food anyways…"

Germany sighed. "You need rest. We should go home now, ja?"

"Ve, alright."

…

I held a pouting Spain's hand as we walked the short distance from the park back to his home. He and Feliciano had shared a very heartfelt goodbye, only to be brought apart by the potato, who had been insistent on leaving four hours early so that they could catch their evening flight.

It was about five in the afternoon, so the temperature was just right in the sense that you didn't have to worry about having your flesh melt off. I absently swung Spain's hand back and forth in the hopes that I would be able to cheer him up. Unfortunately, I wasn't having much luck. He had really liked Feli, much to my own disgruntlement. Keh, the inferiority complex would never end with me.

For reasons inexplicable, Spain stopped walking, causing me to stop myself. "What's wrong?" I asked, cocking my head to the side in question.

Spain squirmed uncomfortably, blushing a bright red. "I have to go potty," he said, making a point to avoid eye contact with me.

"We're only two blocks away," I said with an unrealistic amount of optimism. "Can't you wait?"

"N-No! I have to go….really bad!" he whispered.

"Chigi!" I cursed. I looked around, frowning when I realized that there were no nearby bushes for Spain to piss in. We were smack in the middle of suburbia, as tragically convenient as that sounds.

I grabbed Spain's hand again, quickening my pace. "Let's hurry up then!"

"R-Roma!" Spain teared up, biting his lip. "I can't walk...it hurts!"

I looked up to glare at the sky. That sadistic Texan fucker was _really_ beginning to get on my nerves.

"ROMAAAAAA!" Spain wailed again.

"Alright! Alright!" I relented, bending over to pick up Spain by the armpits, albeit holding him as far away from my chest as I possibly could. I didn't want a repeat of the puking incident, that's for sure.

I then tuned into my true inner Italian and ran like the wind. Several houses drew open their curtains to watch this spectacle unfold. After all, it would be pretty fucking amusing to watch a 'Dad' hold out his nearly pissing child in a Simba-like manner, all the while simultaneously cursing and praying to God that they would make it to the toilet in time.

"Hurry! Hurry!"

"I'm going as fast as I can, damn it!"

"Go faster then!"

"I can't!"

* _whimpering sounds*_

"Hold on, bambino! We're almost there!"

I sprinted up the stairs of Spain's front porch, setting down the sobbing toddler nation as I fumbled to unlock the door with shaking hands.

 **CLICK!**

The door unlocked. "Hallelujah!" I cried out in joy.

My joy was cut off short when I picked up Spain again. I then rushed towards the bathroom, kicking the door open.

 **ZIP!**

I undid Spain's overalls and held him over the toilet. "Ahhhhhhh~!" Spain sighed in relief, peeing freely in a dramatically high arc.

"Feel better now?" I grumbled, feeling awkward as I had been holding onto him for a long time now.

"Si! Look at me go, Roma~!"

My eyes widened in horror. Time slowed as I watched Spain's torso turn around. "Spain! Don't you dare turn aro-!"

 **GURGLE!**

…

"Roma! Roma! What's wrong?!"

I heaved into the toilet until I had puked up the entire insides of my stomach.

"Oh God! I can still taste it!" I wailed.


	6. Chapter 6

After puking my guts out for a full hour, brushing my teeth until my gums bled, and gargling mouthwash to the point where I suffered from third degree chemical burns in my throat, I had finally left the bathroom, towing a sobbing Spain along with me.

We were now sitting on the living room couch, exhausted from the day's adventures. I cupped a bowl of mints in one arm, and in the other, I held onto Spain, using my hand to absently brush through his thick muss of curls.

I grabbed a mint, throwing it up into the air and effortlessly catching it in my mouth. Spain murmured something unintelligible to himself, making a grab for the mint bowl. It was only until I heard choking sounds that I realized that he had just attempted to mimic me.

I patted Spain's back, causing him to choke out the mint. It flew across the room, sticking against the wall behind the TV. "You good now?" I asked.

"S-si…" Spain coughed.

I rolled my eyes and went back to absently flicking through random TV channels. "There!" Spain cried out.

"There, what?" I asked.

"That show! With all the colours! Can we watch it? Por favooooooor?"

I flipped back two channels, finding myself deadpanning almost instantaneously. Four grown men in neon turtle necks were dancing on the screen. The plastic smiles on their faces were creepy enough for the Pope to warrant an exorcism on them. I did know him personally, after all.

" _Hi! We're the Wiggles_!"

"Oh, hell no!" I grumbled, quickly switching the channel.

Spain reached for the remote, nearly kneeing me in the balls while doing so. "HEY!" he fumed. "Switch it back!"

"You've got to be kidding me," I snorted. "I'm not watching four grown men 'wiggle' their junk for the camera."

"But Romaaaaaaaaa!"

I ignored Spain, aggressively clicking on the remote to get as far away from that hellish channel as possible.

I jolted a little when I felt something sharp pinch at my wrist. I looked down. Nope, it was just Spain being a sore loser as usual.

"Oi! Stop pinching me!"

"Not until you switch the channel back!"

"Relax, will you?" I scolded, gently slapping at his hand. "We'll find something else to watch."

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Spain was now openly bawling; tears, snot, and well, you know the works. I had half the mind to suffocate him with one of the couch pillows. It would have made taking care of him so much easier, I'm just saying.

Instead, I opted to go with the more rational option. I caved and relinquished my control over the remote. It took Spain all but two seconds to stop crying, as he was now giggling and watching the screen with giddy, twinkling eyes. It was disturbing how much he was into that show. Oh well, at least we weren't watching Dora the Explorer. I can't stand that deaf bitch.

I soon found myself closing my eyes, bored and sufficiently traumatized from what was happening on the TV screen. Spain's elated giggles faded out as my consciousness began to slip away.

A sharp whistle in my head jolted me back into consciousness. I looked around the room, feeling a weird pang in the pit of my stomach. It took me a moment to realize that time had frozen for the second time today. Spain was frozen, mid-clap, his cheeks spread into an ear-to-ear grin. I attempted to remove my arm from his waist, but alas, I was also stuck in place. I was only able to move from the neck up.

"What the fuck does he want now?" I groaned.

The TV flickered for a minute before turning black.

 _"We interrupt this program to bring to you a divine message from T-God!"_

 _"Testing, testing. One, two, three!"_ The familiar -annoying - voice of Texan God trilled.

" _Tomato fella, can ya hear me loud and clear?"_

"Si, I can hear you," I grit my teeth.

 _"Alrighty then! So, want to tell me the reason why you're sitting on your lazy arse right now?"_

"I'm tired?"

" _That's not an excuse, young man! That kiddie needs some food in him!"_

"He just ate two hours ago. He's fine," I retorted.

" _I beg to differ!"_ Texan God snorted when Spain's stomach decided to let out an explosive, traitorous growl.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll make him dinner soon."

" _More like now!"_

"Don't test me, Jesus wannabee. I'm _so_ not in the mood for this!"

" _You best not provoke me…boy!"_

 _*Cue the completely unintimidating sound of half-ass, low-budget thunder claps*_

"Keh. Whatever."

 _*Sigh*_

 _"Are you going to get up and cook now?"_

"I can't if I'm still frozen!"

" _Dear me! You're right_!"

 ** _*SNAP!*_**

Time began to move again.

Now if only I could prevent my own mind from snapping…

…

Feliciano stretched his back, yawning before settling his head onto his stern-faced lover's shoulder. Ludwig was currently immersed in reading the flight passenger's safety manual, a manual that he had already memorized, but was still intent on giving it a quick onceover. Feliciano sighed. Ludwig had always been such an adorable worry-wart.

"Ve, Luddy. Why don't you set down that book and relax, si?"

Ludwig merely shook his head. "Feli," he tutted in a tired voice. "It's always better to be safe than sorry."

Feliciano decided to let the topic drop, knowing deep down that this was Ludwig's unique way of calming his nerves before a flight. The bright-faced Italian then closed his eyes, letting the familiar sound of flipping pages ease his own mind.

"Luddy?"

"Ja?"

"How do you think my fratello's doing?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Ludwig lied.

All in all, Ludwig was just glad to be away from Feliciano's temperamental older brother. This whole 'magic' thing was far too weird for him to take seriously. The morning had already been weird enough with Feliciano rambling to him about a dream that he had had the night prior. Hence, the reason why they had both decided to fly to Spain in the first place. And what a disaster that visit had turned out to be.

"Luddy?"

"Hmmm."

Feliciano then began to talk at a mile a minute. Ludwig caught hardly any of it, nodding and humming occasionally to fake his engagement in the conversation.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?"

"Ja."

"Thought so," Feliciano pouted.

Ludwig jolted with a start when Feliciano bent over to nibble on his earlobe.

"F-Feli," Ludwig spluttered, his face blushing an unflattering shade of red. It was a good thing that most of the passengers on the plane had already fallen asleep.

"Oh good~! I have your attention now, ve," Feliciano innocently batted his eyelashes.

"Hypothetically speaking, what would you do if I was turned into a child?"

Ludwig spared Feliciano a light chuckle. "That's easy. I would feed you with an endless amount of food."

"But that would spoil me!"

Ludwig turned his head to lightly peck Feliciano on the cheek. "You're already spoiled. I can hardly say no to you as it stands now."

Feliciano beamed, seemingly satisfied with this answer. "Out of all the nations, I wonder who would be the most difficult as a child," he pondered.

Ludwig snorted. "Roderich's a given. Hmmm. Or what about mein bruder?"

"Si! Gilbert _would_ be quite the handful."

"More like _is_ ," Ludwig remarked, rolling his eyes as he pulled out his phone to read the most recent string of texts from said obnoxious albino.

 _Gilbert: Ayo! West! So…I kinda…sort of…burnt down the kitchen again. And…I borrowed your credit card to pay for the damages…_

 _Gilbert: Oh! Before I forget! If Elizabeta asks, I'm NOT home. Tell her I'm in Iceland or somewhere FAR, FAR away._

 _Gilbert: Btw, that was a really cute pic of you and Feli on insta ;)_

 _Gilbert: AWESOME OUT!_

The vein in Ludwig's temple pulsed. Feliciano, who was completely oblivious to this, simply kept on talking.

"He raised you just fine. I'm sure that you would be able to do the same for him, ve."

Ludwig smirked at the prospect of having _full_ control over his irresponsible older brother.

"One thing's for sure. If I raised him, he wouldn't be nearly as erratic as he is now."

…

 _YEEHAW!_

 _Be careful what you wish for, my naïve, young potato…_


	7. Chapter 7

Texan God didn't give me much of a choice other than to cook for little Spain, which was exactly what I was doing right now. Thankfully, in his earlier morning tantrum, he hadn't managed to break the entire booster seat. Even though the strap was broken, I had made do with an old belt of his to hold him in place.

Lastly, to busy the little tyke, I had given him a few scrap pieces of paper and an assortment of colorful pens that I had found in adult Spain's 'office.' Office meaning the place where he doodles and neglects to fill out paper work. Keh, and that bastard wonders why his national debt is so massive.

Anyways, I had a pot of noodles boiling on the stove and was currently stirring and adding ingredients to an adjacent pot of simmering pasta sauce. Spain looked up every now and then to narrow his eyes at me before going back to his drawing.

I furrowed my brows, setting down the wooden spoon into the pasta sauce with a plop. I quietly walked behind him, leaning forward to get a good look at what he was sketching. "What's that you're drawing there?" I mused with a smirk.

Spain jumped a little before clumsily spreading his arms over the drawing, effectively blocking my view of it. "Roma!" he pouted with pursed lips. "No peaking! I'm not finished yet!"

I crossed my arms, clicking my tongue in annoyance. "Fine. Call me over when you're done your 'master piece', si?"

As usual, my sarcasm went right over his obliviously youthful head. "Okay~!"

I went back to stirring the sauce, discretely looking over my shoulder to spy on what the little sneak was doing. Spain had his tongue sticking out in concentration as he just about attacked the paper with his scribbles. Another ten minutes passed before he finally seemed to be satisfied with his drawing.

"Romaaaaa~!" he squealed. "I'm done! Come look!"

I grumbled and trudged over to look at his shit scribbles. What? I'm just being honest here. Obviously, you won't hear me outright say this to him.

I peered over Spain, my expression darkening. "Che, you think you're funny, huh?" I growled, which prompted Spain to burst out into a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

The drawing consisted of me, a horribly-drawn stick figure, being pummelled with a tornado of soccer balls. Want to guess what Spain was doing? The little bastard was the one kicking the balls at me.

I chuckled just to humor him. "Come here, you!" I said while pulling him into a semi-tight headlock.

"Roma?" Spain's chuckles died down. "I can't move! L-let me go!"

"I like you so much better when you're quiet!" I cooed, resting my chin on top of his head. "Shhhh… Go to sleep!"

 _Hush little bastard don't say a word._

 _Roma's going to slip you a sedative and then your mind will become blurred~_

"But I'm not tired!"

"You won't be saying that for long," I teased, frowning when this bitch named 'conscience' decided to internally berate me for having such a dark sense of humour. I sighed, lessoning my grip around the little bastard.

Spain easily squirmed out of my hold. "I'm hungry," he exclaimed.

I playfully flicked him in the ear. "That's why I'm making you food."

Spain, who still hadn't learned to control his strength, 'playfully' punched my stomach in retaliation.

And by playfully, I mean forcefully, as he had unintentionally sent me flying across the room with his brute strength.

 **CRASH!**

My now airbourn form crumpled against the wooden door of the pantry, where I then gracelessly slid down to the ground, wheezing and groaning all the while. I winced when I felt my ribs pop back into place.

"Roma?!" Spain looked down at me in horror.

I smiled at him despite the immense amount of pain that I was feeling. "I'm alright, bambino," I said, sounding unnaturally hoarse-voiced.

I stood up, unrealizing to the fact that my shoulder blades had yet to heal. My arm hung limply to the side. At the sight of this, Spain's lips began to tremble. "A-are you hurt…?"

"Oh, no, no. Sweetie, it's okay. I know that you didn't mean to do that," I cooed, awkwardly waddling over to him while holding my limp arm in place. I didn't want to traumatize him anymore than I had to.

"Hey," I said, already feeling my arm begin to heal. "Want to see a magic trick?"

The shimmering in Spain's eyes lessened. "Magic trick?" he whimpered.

"Si!" I grinned. "A magic trick!" I flopped my arm around, gritting my teeth to stifle my screams.

"You see this 'funny' arm?"

Spain giggled and nodded his head.

"Good!" I praised. "Now I want you to keep an eye on it. I'm going to turn around now, and by the time that I turn back, it'll be fully healed!"

"No waaaaaay!"

"Wait for it!" I laughed, all the while feeling like screaming on the inside.

I turned around, waiting for the uncomfortable familiar pop in my shoulder to occur.

 **POP!**

I bit my tongue hard enough that I tasted blood. _Balls,_ that hurt.

I forced my face into a plastic smile and turned around. "Ta-dah~!" I half-sang, half-cried, taking a slight bow before Spain's ogling face.

"Wow! How did you do that?!"

"A magician never tell his secrets," I mused, limping over to the stove to turn the heat down.

"Would you look at that! Dinner's ready too!"

"Yaaaaaaay~!"

Spain pounded an excited fist against the table portion of his booster seat, effortlessly snapping it in two.

I sighed. "Looks like we'll be eating in the living room now."

…

Spain and I sat hunched over the coffee table in the living room, eating from our still steaming plates of pasta. I had given Spain a stack of pillows to sit on, as he wasn't tall enough to reach the table without them. Thankfully, we had reached a compromise over what channel to watch on the TV this time. We were currently watching the sports highlights of an American soccer match.

I rolled a large clump of pasta around my fork, bringing it to my mouth, only to falter when I felt the gaze of two large eyes burn holes into the side of my face. "What?" I huffed in between chewing.

Spain bit his lip, causing me to furrow my brows and look at his plate. "How come you haven't touched your food?"

"I want yours!" he pouted.

"We're eating the exact same thing!" I spluttered, setting down my fork.

Spain crossed his arms, turning his head to glare at the wall. "Roma's food always tastes better than mine."

I deadpanned. The little spoiled bastard was used to people feeding him now. God damn it, Feliciano.

"Che," I growled, grabbing Spain by the waist and setting him onto my lap. " _Needy bastard,"_ I grumbled in Italian.

I then raised a forkful of my pasta to Spain's mouth. "Here, you greedy little monster."

Spain giggled and eagerly slurped up the noodles into his mouth. "Gracias~!"

"Yeah, yeah, hurry up and eat. It's late. I should probably get you to bed soon."

After that, Spain and I took turns from eating out of my plate. We then moved on to eating from his plate. It was a long and tedious process, but by the time that we had finished, we were both yawning.

Spain turned around to hug my waist. "That was very yummy, Roma~!"

I smiled, ruffling his hair. "I'm glad that you enjoyed it."


	8. Chapter 8

"Spain!" I called. "Your bath's ready!"

I placed my hand into the bath tub, making sure that the temperature wasn't too hot for the little guy. Thankfully, the water was just right.

I scowled again when I spotted the wooden basket resting at the side of the tub. The basket consisted of several plastic toy ships, kid-friendly shampoos and soaps, and a small bucket for washing. On top of that, Texan God had left a note for me to read, that of which I didn't even bother to look at. I had only read the bizarre sign-off: ' _With love, your #1 home twizzling Texan'_.

You can probably see why I hadn't bothered to read the rest of the note.

Spain poked his head around the door. "Is it ready yet?" he beamed, shedding me with a mouthful of toothpaste-stained teeth.

I rolled my eyes. "Just get in here before the water becomes cold."

Spain grinned, strutting into the bathroom with his red towel cape flicking behind him. His food belly was sticking out far more than it usually did. "You may now undress me!" he exclaimed, expectantly holding up both arms to the air.

I sighed, bringing a hand to my forehead as if it could heal the raging migraine running amok in my brain. "Let me guess. You won't get into the tub if I refuse?"

Spain's mirthful expression told me everything that I needed to know.

"Ugh. C'mere," I gestured for Spain to come closer.

"Ay!" Spain whimpered melodramatically when I pulled off his 'cape'. I then grabbed him from underneath the armpits, placing his squirming body into the luke-warm tub. I had a dead, unamused expression on my face the entire time.

Spain giggled when he spotted the half dozen or so plastic boats floating in the water. While he played with his miniature 'armada', I grabbed and wetted a washcloth, squirting a reasonable amount of soap onto it.

"Oi! Enough playing around! Let's get you cleaned up."

"Okay~!" Spain scuttled over to where I was sitting, causing the water in the tub to swing dangerously high.

I began to clean Spain with the washcloth, rolling my eyes at his silliness. He somehow thought that me washing his armpits was funny.

Next was his hair, which, oddly enough, proved to be much easier than cleaning the rest of his body. Spain leaned into my touch as I scrubbed my hands through his curls, breathing deeply in content. It was then that I remembered how much Spain used to love it whenever I would massage his head and neck area.

Just the thought of this made me growl in dissatisfaction. I missed that bastard, even if I was still technically spending time with him right now. I missed his dopey smiles and his obnoxious 'good morning, mi tomitato~!' hugs and kisses…

"Roma…why are you staring at me like that?!"

 **SPLASH!**

"PFT!" I coughed, choking on the bath water that had just been thrown at my face.

"What the heck did you do that for?" I roared.

"You weren't answering me…" Spain trailed off, looking up at me through thick, batted eyelashes.

 **SPLASH!**

Spain's face widened in surprise, blinking harshly as water dripped down his chin.

"Oops," I mused. "Looks like my hand slipped."

"LIAR!" Spain fumed, raising his hand in retaliation.

"Don't you dare even think about it!" I growled, leaning forward to grab onto his wrist.

Spain smirked, and it was then that I was realized just how fucking dumb I was.

"Chigi!" I cursed as Spain tugged on my hand, causing the upper half of my body to topple into the tub.

…

"Fusososo! You look so silly, Roma~!" Spain crooned while I helped him out of the tub.

I blew a stray piece of hair out of my face in irritation. I had taken off my shirt and was now bare-chested, but that wasn't what Spain was laughing at. Because my hair was soaked, I had wrapped it up with a towel. Let's just say that I probably wouldn't get by very easily in an American airport while wearing this.

I spun a giggling Spain around and around as I wrapped, more like trapped, him in his own towel.

"Keh, stop talking and start drying."

…

 _After 'jammie' time…_

I sat on the foot of Spain's bed while he tossed and turned, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. It was quite funny to watch the over-sized sleeves of his night shirt flop along with him as he did this. I kept my distance just to avoid getting bitch slapped by one of them.

"Can't sleep?" I mused.

Spain grumbled, turning to lie on his back. "I'm not comfy."

"What would make you comfy then?"

I was quickly losing my patience. I just wanted him to fall asleep already. Well, that and for this catastrophic day to finally come to an end.

Spain pursed his lips in thought. "Can you read me a bedtime story?"

"I don't see a spare book lying around here, kid."

"Then make it up!"

I huffed, crawling over to sit next to Spain and leaning my back against the wooden bedframe.

Spain lifted my arm, resting his head against my chest.

"What type of story do you want me to tell?" I asked.

"Something to do with pirates~!"

I deadpanned. Go fucking figure.

I cleared my throat, preparing to bullshit my way through this story.

" _Ahem! Once upon a time there was a Spanish pirate named Antonio. Antonio was a brave, careless man who had a fond love for tomatoes and anything to do with the sea. However, what he loved most in life was his little brother_ -"

"Roma! Name the little brother Roma!"

"Excuse you. I thought that I was telling the story?"

Spain immediately quieted down, rubbing his face into my stomach to avoid my gaze.

"Anyways, where was I? Oh, yes: ' _Roma', unfortunately, was unable to join Antonio on his voyages as he was only five years old_.

" _While Antonio travelled the world, discovering treasures and meeting exotic peoples, Roma stayed at home, sad and lonely as he had no one interesting to play with and yell at. From time to time, Antonio would come home to visit. He would always give Roma the most interesting trinkets and objects that he had come across on his journeys._

 _"_ _Roma, on the other hand, didn't want these gifts. All he wanted was for his older brother to stay with him at their home together. Roma may not have acted like it, but deep down he really did love his older brother dearly._

" _As Roma grew older and wiser, he began to worry about Antonio. You see, Antonio had always been quite the reckless person. He was brave, too brave, and often let his emotions get the best of him. Antonio was strong physically, but it was Roma who was the smart one. And because Roma was so smart, he knew that one day Antonio would wind up getting hurt on the seas._

 _"_ _Now old enough to leave their home, Roma begged and pleaded with Antonio. Roma too wanted to join Antonio out on the seas. But, being equally as stubborn, Antonio refused Roma, stating that the sea was a place far too dangerous for his precious little brother._

 _"_ _Roma wanted to protect Antonio by being there with him on his oversea voyages, whereas, Antonio wanted to protect Roma by banning him from the sea entirely._

 _"_ _The brothers loved each other, that was without a doubt, but they both had a funny way of expressing this love. Roma yelled at Antonio and got angry with him a lot, while Antonio worked harder to please his younger brother by bringing him even more exotic gifts-"_

"But Roma doesn't like Antonio's presents!" Spain remarked, looking up at me with wide, ogling eyes.

I nodded my head. "You're exactly right. But Antonio didn't know how much Roma despised these presents. He thought that he was making his younger brother happy."

"That's so silly!"

"Shhh. Let me finish the story!" I hushed.

Spain settled down again.

" _One day, what Roma feared most about Antonio happened. Antonio had carelessly sailed his ship into enemy waters. He encountered a rival ship captain, who for some reason had unnaturally thick eyebrows. A fight broke out, and Antonio lost half of his men, along with most of his pride._

 _"_ _After the fight, Antonio dragged himself home. He was very badly injured. When Roma found Antonio lying before him on their front porch, he fell to his knees. Roma cried and yelled at Antonio for being reckless and for letting himself get hurt._

" _Seeing his brother become so sad, Antonio cried too. He was both touched and confused by Roma's behaviour. Antonio then asked Roma why he was crying and Roma simply shook his head in disbelief, telling Antonio that the reason why he was crying was because he loved him very much._

 _"_ _The best present that Antonio could have ever given Roma was his company. Realizing this, Antonio stayed home more often, cherishing every minute of his time spent with Roma."_

I paused, furrowing my brows. I had always sucked at endings.

" _Eventually, Antonio retired from his pirating career, and upon Roma's suggestion, they built their own tomato farm together. They…uh… then grew old and lived happily ever after_ …"

" _The end."_

I trailed off in a whisper, realizing that Spain had long fallen asleep. I gently lifted Spain's head from my torso, placing it onto his pillow. I then drew the covers over his shoulders, bending down to place a kiss onto his forehead.

"Sweet dreams, bambino."

Fatigue overcame me, and listening to the aches of my body, I complied and laid down next to Spain, pulling the covers over my shoulders as well. Spain inadvertently cuddled up against my chest. It wasn't long before I felt my own consciousness begin to slip away…

 **SNAP!**

I jolted when I felt the falling sensation that some people experience when they fall asleep too fast. My eyelids fluttered open and I found myself standing in an endless sea of white. I wasn't in a room, as there didn't appear to be any walls.

I blinked harshly at the whiteness, cocking my head to the side. Perhaps I was dreaming?

"Chigi!" I cursed when the atmosphere rumbled, jumping out of the way when a white podium jutted out from the ground.

I jumped again when an amplified voice echoed across the 'room.'

"Please rise. The Court of Nations is now in session, the Honourable Judge Clarence presiding."

 **BAM!**

I recognized the familiar sound of a gavel smacking against a wooden surface.

"Welcome, Ladies and Gents, to the case of parent Lovino Vargas!"

…

 **To be continued.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N** : This story's nearing its conclusion. Just one more chapter left after this one.

I'd just like to remind you all that I am a very sensitive person. Whenever I complete a story and I see that readers unfollow, I get offended and feel used. I know that some people don't intend that but that's how I take it. By all means, feel free to favorite or unfavorite this story as you see fit. I can't dictate your choice of stories :p It's the unfollowing that makes me think that you're a first-class butthole though lmao.

Anyways, thanks for reading and being great thus far :D! It's been a pleasure to write this story for you guys. Reviews are always appreciated as they feed the muse ;)

Enjoy~!

* * *

"Please rise. The Court of Nations is now in session, the Honourable Judge Clarence Presiding."

 **BAM!**

I recognized the familiar sound of a gavel smacking against a wooden surface.

"Welcome, Ladies and Gents, to the case of parent Lovino Vargas!"

The ground rumbled again, and a podium fit for a God emerged from it. Oh wait…

I looked down, realizing that I was standing on solid cloud, where multiple vapour trails licked at my feet. I attempted to look up at the giant podium resting before me, but found myself forced to look down again. How odd. This was just like the time that I had seen the image of Texan God sitting in the 'movie theatre'. All I could see were giant hands, but no face. His face must have been blurred out by a 'heavenly' censor.

Cheers erupted around me, the sounds of their shouts echoing as if we were in stadium, and yet I couldn't spot anyone.

"W-where the hell am I?!" I spluttered.

The crowd gasped, most of whom muttered: "How dare he say such a word in here?!"

The Judge cleared his throat. "Weren't you listening to me the first time, partner?" the unfortunately familiar voice of Texan God drawled.

"We're here today to judge your parenting skills. Now if you could please take a place behind your podium that'd be great! I've gotta helluva lot of cases to hear today!"

I shook my head in disorientation, numbly walking over to stand behind my podium. I hadn't been expecting to undergo a trial for my parenting. I had only been expecting for the spell to wear off overnight. Hence the reason I had put Spain to bed so early in the first place.

"This is absolutely ridiculous," I muttered to myself.

It was absolutely mortifying for me to hold a court session in a tomato print pajama suit. But then again, I had gone through far worse with little Spain over the past day.

 **POOF!**

A justice scale popped into sight, situating itself on the flat part of my podium. On the right side of the scale, there was a soccer ball, and on the left, there was a floating green ball of gas that remotely looked like a ghost. At least that's what I think it was.

"Do you see that scale, young man?"

"S-si?"

"Good. That right there will decide whether you have passed the parenting test. We will judge you according to two criteria. That being, the levels of traumatization and fun that your chibified lover has experienced over the past 24 hours."

"Do you have any questions?"

I was too stunned to respond.

"Alrighty! Let's begin then, shall we?"

"Jesus, take the scale~!" Texan God sung, and obnoxiously at that.

The left side of the scale dipped dangerously towards surface level, leaving the right side suspended high up in the air.

Texan God tsked, while the invisible crowd leered with disapproving sighs.

"Gosh! That's a lot of traumatization for just one day! Lemme see here. You yelled at the child for puking, you incessantly swore in front of him, you carelessly let him get hurt at the park, he almost choked on a mint…and oh wait! That's right! You also sassed the judge on countless occasions!"

"Oi!" I roared. "Are you only going to focus on my faults?! I did a lot of good things too, damn it!"

"Do you wish to holler upon a witness?"

"Hell yeah I do!"

The ground rumbled once more, and another white podium popped into place beside me.

"Bring in my fratello!" I commanded.

"Tsk! So bossy!" Texan God scolded, causing me to roll my eyes in annoyance.

 **POOF!**

The clouds cleared, and it wasn't long before Feliciano was waving at me from behind his own podium. For reasons inexplicable, the airhead was wearing his WW2 uniform.

"Ciao Lovi!" he beamed, looking around in awe at the whiteness before him. "Ve, is this a dream?"

"No, you idiota!" I growled. "I'm on trial now. They're judging my parenting skills!"

"Ohhhhhhhhh," Feliciano hummed in understanding. "Nice pajamas by the way."

"Feli, for the love of fuck, you're my only witness. I need you to help me convince them that I'm a good parent."

"Ve, I'm not a miracle-worker, Lovi."

"Whose side are you on?!" I growled.

"Yours, I guess?"

"Then fucking act like it!"

"Ahem, are y'all kiddies done counselling with each other?"

I nodded my head, aiming one last sharpened glance at Feliciano. "Si. We are."

Texan God cleared his throat. "Great! Feliciano Vargas! You have been brought here today to testify on your brother's behalf. Do you swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?"

Feliciano raised his right hand in salute. "I do!"

"Tell me, what are your thoughts on your brother's parenting skills?"

"Ve, well," Feliciano shifted nervously. "Fratello can be really grumpy at times, but he always means well. The whole time that I was playing with little Spain, he was always talking about how much he loved Lovi. I could tell that the bambino really liked him."

Unbeknownst to me, the scale tipped slightly towards the right.

The crowd murmured in discussion, only to quiet when Texan God slammed his gavel several times.

I turned to give Feliciano the dirtiest glare on Heaven. "You couldn't have, oh I don't know, left out the part about me being grumpy?!"

Feliciano shied under my gaze, cupping a hand around his mouth to whisper back to me. "I swore to tell the truth. I can't just lie for you!"

"Keh, some witness you are!" I spat out.

"Ahem, thank you, Feliciano Vargas. Your time spent here was very much appreciated. You're free to go now."

Feliciano reached out for me. "Wait! I'm not done yet! I still have to-!"

 **POOF!**

Feliciano disappear in a cloud of smoke, and just like that, my chances of winning this case were cut in half.

"Mr. Vargas, your defense?"

"I…uh…"

"Do you need someone to speak on your behalf?"

"N-no! I'll do it myself," I nervously raked a hand through my hair. I had nothing prepared. This speech was going to be a complete and utter shitshow.

My knees trembled as I walked out from behind my podium. I needed more space to walk and think this through.

"Now, I know what you're all thinking. Si, I'll admit it, I wasn't the perfect parent to Spain. But here's the thing. No parent is perfect. I worked my ass off to take care of him. I made him food, clothed him, and coddled him way too much for his own spoiled good."

"Such profanity!" The crowd chorused. I was too focused to heed them any attention.

"I mean, for fuck's sakes! I went through hell and back just to make that child happy. I was puked on, pissed on, punched, and even had my arm broken! And despite all this, I still found myself caring about that entitled little shit!

"I was wrong, okay?! There is no better parent. Spain did his thing when I was younger, and I did mine today. We laughed, we cried, and we fought. Fuck, we fought a lot. It was a difficult process, but I don't regret a single thing.

"I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to parenting. The way I see it, success for me was when I could put a smile on that bambino's face. Whether it was singing silly songs, tickling him, playing sports, or whatever the hell else, his happiness was all that ever mattered to me.

"I now appreciate my lover far more than I've ever had before. The only thing that I'm good at is loving that bastard unconditionally. Child or adult, I will always love Spain, and that's a fact.

"I'm actually glad to have had this experience. It made me realize just how much Spain had gone through to raise me into the nation that I am today. I'll end this by apologizing for my arrogance. I was wrong to underestimate what my lover had gone through so many years ago.

"Parenting is difficult! But more than that, it's just so fucking rewarding. All it took was one smile for me to fall for him all over again. I don't take anything back. Even if I don't win this case, just know that I love that child with all my heart!"

I trailed off, panting from exertion as I finished my speech.

"Awwwwwwwwwwww~!" the crowd audibly swooned.

I waved my hand around, not knowing where to look. "Uh…that's all I have. Thanks for your time…"

The scale tipped more and more towards the right. I clenched my fists in anticipation. Come on…almost there….!

 **BAM!**

Texan God rapped his gavel twice. "Hmmmm. It appears that Spain had a lot of fun with you as well," he remarked.

"Keh, I would sure hope so."

"I've come up with a decision! You've passed the test!"

I cried out with relief as I watched the scale tip completely towards the right. The crowd cheered, while I fell to my knees, sobbing like a little bitch.

"It's finally over," I blubbered. "Oh God, I fucking missed that bastard."

"Well done, son! You've finally learned your lesson."

"E-excuse me?" I sniffed.

"Taking care of a child is more than just technicalities. It requires love, and despite your tsundere, potty mouth exterior, you seem to be full of that feeling!"

"Does this mean that everything will go back to normal now?"

"Yeeeeeeeeeeee."

"I'm just going to take that as a yes." I bowed my head in thanks. As you can see, dignity was merely a fad of the past.

"Grazie."

"Yer welcome~! Oh, ya might want to cover your ears!"

"Huh?!"

"Goodbye, little tomato! Don't come back now, ya hear?"

 **WHOOOOSH!**

The world span before me and the sound of the invisible clapping jury faded away. I felt as if I had just been sucked down a rabbit hole, one that oddly smelled of burnt taquitos.

I opened my eyes, crying out when my ears popped. Ah, so that's what that Texan bastard had warned me about. It was a little too fucking late for that.

I blinked, taking in my surroundings. I was back in Spain's bedroom, lying on his bed. A shuffle to my right prompted me to turn around. I was met with a sunny smile and a pair of glowing green orbs.

The deep rumble of my lover's voice almost made me piss my pants out of joy.

"Lovi? What are you doing up so late, mi amor?"

 **To be continued…**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Woot Woot! This fic is done! Thanks a bunch for being so supportive, and thanks a million to **NebulaZee** for being a **fab** Beta Reader.

Stay tuned for the end of the chapter. You're in for a pleasant surprise (well, at least I sure hope so) :) (shout out to the people who skipped ahead and spoiled it for themselves lmao)

* * *

"Lovi? What are you doing up so late, mi amor?"

I jolted when Spain chuckled at my surprised expression. "Boo," he whispered.

"Spain!" I cried out. I didn't hesitate to leap into his arms, and by leap, I mean accidentally headbutt him in the throat.

"L-Lovi?" Spain choked as I dry-sobbed into his collarbone. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just shut up!" I wailed.

"Aw~!" he cooed, gently petting the back of my head, albeit being careful not to stroke that _one_ curl.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

I shuddered. "You have no idea."

I pulled away to catch Spain's lips in a tender kiss. "Fuck," I moaned. "I missed this."

It took Spain's sleepy bastard brain a minute to finally react to the kiss. "You're acting unusually clingy," he purred, pulling me to his chest.

I sucked on his lower lip, grinning to myself when he opened his own mouth on instinct. Our tongues slipped in together, and I reveled in how sweet he tasted.

"Are you still hungover from all the wine you drank last night?"

"Wine?" I questioned, pausing to catch my breath.

And then it all clicked. Spain was referring to the night before he had been turned into a bambino.

"Wait, hold up a minute!" I pushed myself off Spain's chest, plopping down next to him. "What happened yesterday?"

"Well, I invited you over for dinner, didn't I?"

"What did you cook for me?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Just tell me, damn it!" I growled, on the verge of losing my patience. I know, what a big surprise.

Spain reached over to flick on the lamp at his bedside. "I made you pizza. Now do you want to tell me why you're so worked up?"

I didn't answer him. I was too busy throwing myself over the bed. "Where are you going?!" Spain called after me.

I nearly fell when my socks clumsily slipped against the wooden flooring of Spain's upstairs hallway. I shivered, realizing that I was only wearing a pair of red boxers. How odd. I didn't remember going to bed in that?

Keh, whatever! I had much more important things to do. If my assumption was correct, then Spain would have no memories subsequent to being transformed into a child.

I clambered downstairs, stopping under the archway of the kitchen's entrance to ogle at its perfection. The kitchen table was no longer broken, nor were the plates, the pantry door, or heck; even the hole in the walls were gone!

I laughed in pure bliss. "Everything's back to normal!"

"What's back to normal?"

I leaned into Spain's touch when he wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind. I could feel the warmth radiating off his bare chest. All the emotions that I had bottled up over the past day spilled out uncontrollably. In other words, I began to sob like a little bitch.

"Lovi? Oh baby, don't cry. Was the nightmare really that bad?" Spain bent down to kiss my cheek, turning me around so that I could face him.

I looked at his feet, refusing to meet his eyes. Spain, unsatisfied with this typical childish reaction of mine, picked me up by waist and sat me down on the counter.

"Lovi, look at me," he murmured, using his thumb to wipe a tear from my cheek.

I opened my legs, letting him come closer. I wrapped my feet around the waistband of his sweatpants, trapping him in place. God, I was so needy.

I let my forehead fall against Spain's, still refusing to meet his smoldering green eyes. "I was wrong," I chuckled.

"About what?" he cooed.

"You really are a good parent."

Spain blushed a little. "Um, I'm just trying to comfort you. Besides, I'm not your parent anymore. You're my partner, mi tomatito. I don't want silly arguments from the past to get in the way of how we enjoy ourselves now."

I sighed, rubbing my nose against his. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"So, what about that nightmare? And don't tell me you didn't have one," Spain clucked in his mother hen voice, completely defeating the purpose of his statement. That moron.

"I know that troubled look on your face. You're not telling me something."

I rolled my eyes. "I dreamed that you died back when I was a child, okay?" I lied, cracking my voice to better add to my performance. I think it would be best for everyone if Spain never found out about what had happened yesterday. Lord knows that he had enough gloating material on me as it was.

"What a terrible thing to dream about," Spain simpered. "Are you alright?"

I smirked. "I will be if you come closer."

"Que?"

I cupped Spain's face with both hands and kissed his blushing cheeks, his chin, his brow bone, his ear, his neck, and just about any other place where his skin was exposed.

"Don't you dare leave me," I growled.

"I wouldn't _dream_ to," Spain remarked with a cocky smirk.

I wrapped my arms around Spain's neck. I was having absolutely none of his sarcasm. "Carry me back to bed, bitch."

Spain sighed, bending his knees as he lifted me off the counter and into his arms. "Sometimes I wonder if you ever grew up. You're a big baby, that's what you are," he teased, kissing my head.

I smirked, reveling in the irony of how easily our positions had been reversed.

 _Welcome the fuck back, you perverted bastard._

…

Ludwig pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing when he felt the dizziness of yet another all-nighter push him closer to the brink of madness. He had hardly slept for the past 48 hours, and it was all because of Gilbert. Said dummkopf had thought that it would be a good idea to host a party.

Essentially, Ludwig has come home to a giant mess, a stack of paper work -as Gilbert had caused a record amount of property damage- and on top of that, he still had to prepare his presentation for the upcoming world meeting.

It goes to say that Ludwig had lost his temper with Gilbert, a fight that had resulted with the latter storming out of the house angrier than ever before. Perhaps Ludwig had been a bit harsh with his older brother, but in his defense, he was still jetlagged.

You see, Ludwig was still wound up about his recent visit to Spain. The craziness of seeing a nation being reverted to chibi form was far too bizarre for Ludwig's 'strict, no-nonsense' mind to handle.

When Ludwig got home, he had expected to find some normalcy again; to continue with his daily and familiar routine of being productive and useful. Unfortunately, Gilbert's recklessness was the final trigger to his anger.

Ludwig regretted what he had said to Gilbert, and was more than willing to apologize to his brother the next time that they met. Besides, even if Gilbert was staying with Roderich for the meantime, it wouldn't be long before he decided to come back. Gilbert lived in Ludwig's basement, after all. Surely he would come back for his 'darling' xbox.

Ludwig blinked when the harsh morning sun poured through his curtains. He closed his eyes, wishing that Feliciano were there to comfort him.

 **DING DONG!**

Ludwig shook his head in disorientation. A visitor? This early in the morning? How could that be? No matter; Ludwig stood up, hastily smoothing over the wrinkles in his dress shirt.

Ludwig left his office, stopping before the mirror in the hallway to inspect his appearance. He slicked back the stray strands of blond hair from his face, grimacing at the dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired, but more than that, completely unacceptable for proper company.

 **DING DONG!**

"I'm coming. Just one moment," Ludwig called out, sighing in annoyance. This early morning visitor sure was impatient.

Ludwig pulled open his front door. "Ja, how can I help you…?" the German trailed off, looking down to meet the gaze of his _much_ shorter visitor.

A little boy, who was no older than five years old, shed Ludwig with a mouthful of pink gums and half-grown in teeth. He had a rat's nest of white-blond hair and eyes that were redder than the deepest crimson.

Ludwig jumped back slightly when the boy pointed a stubby finger at his face.

"Hallo, strange man behemoth! You are now my slave, for the awesome me has just conquered your home!"

 **~The End~**

 **So, do ya'll want a sequel?**

 **Woopsie, looks like Missie Ella has already posted the first chapter ;)**

 **Each review = one more chibified nation.**

 **Your #1 Home Twizzling Texan,**

 **-T-God**


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